


Dacryphilia

by Emphysematous



Series: Extra Time [4]
Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Alfie is a good dominant, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BDSM, Blowjobs, Come Eating, Cuddles, M/M, Spoilers up to S5, Subdrop, mentions of suicidal ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:48:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27636398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emphysematous/pseuds/Emphysematous
Summary: Tommy gets punished for playing dangerous games. And then he gets fucked.
Relationships: Tommy Shelby/Alfie Solomons
Series: Extra Time [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2030875
Comments: 28
Kudos: 133





	Dacryphilia

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: 1.08% of the words in this fic are 'fuck' or its derivatives.

"So I said to him, 'mate, you still ain't  _ listening _ . What we are having here is not a  _ negotiation _ . This is not a to-and-fro kind of conversation like what you might have buying a pound of apples down the market. We are not striking a  _ bargain _ here. Because to strike a bargain, right, both parties need to have something the other wants, yeah? That's called  _ leverage _ . And you, you little toerag, have nothing I particularly want.'" Alfie's belt  _ thwipped _ through the air before smacking hard across the back of Tommy's thighs. Tommy grunted from the impact and hissed through his teeth. A fresh stripe began to pinken amongst the couple of dozen already burning bright red and bruise blue over his backside and legs. 

"And - can you believe this - Tommy?" Alfie paced around the room again, his boots clomping on the floorboards. "Then the silly boy actually said, to my actual fucking  _ face _ , when he was sat in my actual fucking office in the bakery, surrounded by my fucking boys, yeah? He actually had the  _ audacity _ to say to me, 'Mr Solomons,' he said - and I swear to God Tom, I was half an inch from slapping my good name out of his fucking mouth - 'Mr Solomons,' he said, 'it would be unwise to dismiss my offer so flippantly. Fucking ‘ _ unwise _ !" Another  _ thwip _ . Another smack. Another grunt and hiss. Another stripe. 

"And then!  _ Then, _ Tom, He goes  _ on _ ! 'Your particular type of bread is remarkably flammable, Mr Solomons', he said!"  _ Thwip, smack, ugh, hsssssst _ … "Cunt's barely out of short trousers! Been running his little racket round Portsmouth for a couple of seasons and thinks he's queen fucking bee, eh? Made himself a couple of grand harassing fishermen and now he thinks he can come in  _ here _ , to  _ my fucking _ manor,"  _ Thwip, smack, ugh, hsssssst _ … "And tell me it'd be  _ 'unwise _ ' to tell him where he can shove it?"  _ Thwip, smack, ugh, hsssssst… _ "Cheeky fucking sod. How many's that, then?"

Panting slightly, Tommy shifted his weight and huffed out "twenty eight. Sir." in a hoarse voice.

"Is it really? Blimey. That must be hurting like a bastard."  _ Thwip, smack, ugh, hsssssst… _ "How many now?"

"Twe--" Tommy coughed. "Twenty nine." He took a couple of short breaths before adding the curt "Sir" at the end. 

Tommy was kneeling with his belly resting on Alfie's old army trunk. From the waist up he was still impeccably dressed - albeit with his shirt and waistcoat pushed halfway up his back. Alfie had stripped him of everything from shirttails down - and tied his wrists and knees together for good measure. It was a very pretty picture. They were in the garret room at the top of Alfie's house. Not the Margate house; his little Camden townhouse, where despite being dead he still managed to spend a great deal of his time, overseeing the running of the bakery and its associated business with an eagle eye. It was convenient. Tommy spent half his time in Whitehall these days anyway; it was a lot easier to explain away a night in London than coming up with yet another reason to visit the seaside. 

Alfie crouched down so his face was level with Tommy's. "And how are we feeling about pissing about with loaded handguns to our heads when we've had a bad fucking day at work, eh?" He stroked Tommy's cheek with the folded loop of the belt. There were tear tracks down his face, but those were just from the sting of the belt. It'd take a damn sight more than this to break Tommy Shelby. He'd still been fighting with his fucking skull cracked open, after all. Alfie tapped the belt three times on Tommy's nose. "You ready to explain your-fucking-self yet?

Tommy looked back at him for a moment, but let his head drop without saying anything. Alfie chewed his lip. "Right." He sighed heavily. "Alright then. Have it your way."

He shoved himself upright with noticeably more effort than he'd needed a few years ago and started to pace the room again. "So of course, once the little prick had threatened my bakery - well… All bets are fucking off then, innit?"  _ Thwip, smack, ugh, hsssssst… _ "Although I am finding that after having been resurrected, I do have somewhat more patience for these lads than I used to."  _ Thwip, smack, ugh, hsssssst… _ "Which is why when he left my office he only had a dislocated shoulder and a broken collarbone. And I feel like that shows a significant amount of personal growth, wouldn't you say, Tom?"  _ Thwip, smack, ugh, hsssssst… _

He paused to gaze out the window at the pigeons bathing in a puddle of rainwater on the roof and to shake out his hand. "I do hope you're keeping count, my love, because I would hate to have to start over." Sharp footsteps back to the trunk. Two smacks in quick succession and Tommy finally let out a vocalised cry. Alfie hummed approvingly.

"Thirty two. Sir." Tommy growled, obviously annoyed with himself for shouting out. He was sweating; his face flushed and glistening. He flexed his back and legs. His pale skin made the belt marks stand out vividly.

"If you say so, sweetheart, if you say so," Alfie agreed affably. "Oh, did I tell you about Ishmael? My driver, I think you've met him. Well, his wife is pregnant with their first, they announced it last month and she's due in May sometime. I do think a Spring baby is a beautiful thing, don't you?"  _ Thwip, smack, ugh, hsssssst…  _ "Anyway, last Friday he came to me saying he was in a bit of a pickle and could I help and whatnot. Well, of course I live to  _ serve _ , don't I?"  _ Thwip, smack, ugh, hsssssst... _ "So I offered him a seat and  _ entreated _ him to unburden himself of his worries and woes to me - because I am a caring manager who takes a keen interest in the wellbeing of those in my employ who have demonstrated loyalty and integrity.  _ Thwip, smack, ugh, hsssssst… _ "And it transpires, Tommy, would you believe? It  _ transpires _ that not only is his mistress also expecting to hear the patter of tiny feet in the Spring, but the girl next door finds herself similarly blessed. Or cursed, I suppose, depending on your thoughts on the matter. So of course--"

They'd reached fifty four strikes by the time Alfie had finished rambling his way through telling Tommy all about Ishmael's predicament. Tommy had given up on holding back the shouts and yells with each strike across his tortured skin at around the forty-mark. Pinpricks of blood beaded along some lines where capillaries had burst. The rest was various shades of bright red to purple and stretched tight where fluid had swollen the tissues. He dripped with sweat; it had soaked through undershirt, shirt and waistcoat to form a dark stain on the silk between his shoulderblades. His eyes and nose were streaming; a string of mucous dangled from his lip almost to the floor. He heaved slow deep breaths, every one carefully controlled. 

Alfie knelt down by Tommy's head again and placed a cool hand on the unmarked small of his back, sliding it down over the heat and swelling that covered his arse. Tommy pressed back into his soothing touch, trying to take the sting out of the worst of his hurts. "How're you doing, petal?" he asked while he used two sharp yanks to loosen the slipknots that bound Tommy's wrists and knees. Tommy groaned and stretched his arms out, rolling movement back into his shoulders. 

Alfie pressed a kiss to Tommy's temple. "Ready to make it up to me for playing your silly little game last night? Eh?" Tommy nodded, sniffing back snot and wiping at his wet face with his expensive white cuffs. He was trembling a little. Adrenaline. 

Digging through his pockets, Alfie brought out a voluminous handkerchief and handed it to him. "That's my good boy." He ruffled Tommy's damp hair. "You did so fucking well, love. I'm proud of you. I am." He started to stand but Tommy clutched at his leg. 

"Will you--" he cleared his throat. "Are you gonna fuck me, Alfie?" He looked at Alfie through his lashes in a way that would have seemed coy, had he not been almost too exhausted to hold his head up.

Alfie blinked, unsure if Tommy was hoping for a yes or a no. He smoothed his moustache down with his fingers. "Well now… Do you want me to?" 

Tommy wiped at his face with the handkerchief and nodded again. "I do." His fingers tightened on Alfie's thigh but he kept his head down, hiding his face. "If… If you do?"

Alfie almost laughed out loud. "Tommy, you ridiculous fucking boy. Come here, come on now," He put his hand on top of Tommy's and slid it further up his thigh. All the way up. His erection was straining in his trousers - had been for the last half an hour or more. Tommy palmed up his length, squeezing slightly. "There y'are, you see?" Alfie pressed Tommy's fingers into the sweet spot just under the head of his cock. "You see what you fucking do to me, Tommy? Eh? You and your sinfully beautiful arse?"

"So you will fuck me?" Tommy persisted. He kneaded at Alfie’s cock through the layers of fabric.

Alfie took his face in his hands and turned it to look at him. Kissed him full on the mouth, deep and hungry. "Of course I will, sausage. Gonna fuck you senseless." Another kiss. "But let's get to a bed, eh? I'm too old and creaky to be rolling about on the bare floor these days. And I bet your backside would appreciate a featherbed right now as well, yeah?" 

* * *

Getting Tommy to his feet and down the stairs was less of a trial than Alfie had expected. Though he hissed and groaned through standing and taking the first few steps, once he was moving the pain seemed easier to bear. A kettle of water was tucked up next to the banked fire in the bedroom, keeping warm. Alfie parked Tommy on the bed and bustled about, building up the fire and reboiling the kettle to make tea for them both. He was generous with the sugar in Tommy's cup. 

"Here you go then, get that down ya." He handed over the tea along with a couple of biscuits. "And eat them, and all. No arguing." He stood and watched until Tommy had obediently eaten the first biscuit and drunk half the tea. 

"Alright then, let me look at your hands a mo," Alfie clambered down onto his knees, took hold of Tommy's wrist and rubbed at his cold red fingers, massaging the bloodflow back into them. "Hmmmn," he said thoughtfully, pressing at Tommy's thumbnail and watching the nail bed flush pink again with a critical eye. "How are your legs feeling?" 

Tommy looked down at the indentations from the rope round his knees. "Fine. They're fine." He wriggled his feet and toes to demonstrate. Alfie ran his hands over them and checked his toes anyway. He always did. 

"You ain't finished that fucking tea yet," he chided. Tommy quickly took another sip. "Good boy. You keep going with that, alright?" Alfie unfastened the bottom button of Tommy's waistcoat. "And I'll uh…. I'll entertain myself for a bit." He flashed a filthy grin that brought a stripe of pink across Tommy's pale cheekbones. 

Tommy worked through his biscuit and tea while Alfie worked through his buttons and cufflinks and shirtstuds. Alfie loved undressing him. Tommy always looked the picture of sartorial perfection in his bespoke tailored suits. Dismantling that perfection was a particular pleasure, not least because - when he took his time - being stripped got Tommy just as turned on as Alfie got from stripping him. 

Once he was down to just his undershirt, Tommy was well past halfway hard and Alfie settled in between his knees to use his tongue to tease him the rest of the way there. This was another thing he liked to take his time with. To  _ savour _ . The way Tommy's cock responded to being sucked and licked was an absolute God-given fucking  _ joy _ . He was as sensitive as a lad half his age and still seemed to be slightly amazed that his cock was being sucked at all. Alfie knew that Tommy had been with a 'fair amount' (Tommy's words) of women in his time and had never found himself short of somewhere to stick his prick when he wanted to - but he suspected that he'd not had much of the kind of elaborate body worship that Alfie found himself wanting to bestow upon him. 

Alfie worked his mouth all the way down Tommy's cock until his nose reached dark curls of hair. Above his head, Tommy inhaled sharply through his teeth and clutched at Alfie's hand on his thigh. Alfie twined his fingers with Tommy's and came back up slowly, giving it plenty of tongue and jaw. He sucked at the head until saliva ran down Tommy's length and came off with a satisfied slurp. Tommy exhaled, gazing down at him. "Fuck," was all he managed to say. 

Alfie smirked. "All in good time, lovely." He lapped his tongue over Tommy's cock again and slid his hands up Tommy's thighs and round to his arse, intending to get a good solid handful. Tommy winced. "Ah, fuck, sorry love." Alfie snatched his hands away. "Forgot myself a moment there. How's it feeling?"

Tommy shifted his weight experimentally. "Sore. Hot. It's alright. Just tender." A tiny shrug. "I've had worse beatings." His lip curved in a little teasing smile. 

"Hmmn," Alfie rumbled. He heaved himself to his feet and went to rummage in a chest of drawers next to the wardrobe. He came back with a brown glass jar. "You finish that tea?" Tommy handed him the empty cup. "Good boy. Take that off and get on your belly for me." Alfie opened the jar, letting out a strong smell of arnica, cloves and peppermint. It reminded Tommy of the stuff that Curly liked to use on horses with harness rubs. He pulled off his undershirt and arranged himself face down on the bed. 

The doorbell rang. Followed almost immediately by a furious hammering on the front door. Alfie growled and stalked across the room to the window. He heaved up the sash with some difficulty - recent rainwater had got into the wood of the frame and made the window stick. He stuck his head and shoulders through the narrow gap and looked down. "What part of 'don't bother me' don't you fucking understand?" he roared down at whoever was on his doorstep. "What do you want?" There was an indistinct shout back up to him. "What?" Alfie yelled. Another shout. 

Alfie grumbled to himself and extricated himself from the window frame, slamming the sash back down. "Tommy, sweetheart, I'm going to have to go and have a chat with this pair of pricks about the meaning of the words 'leave me the fuck alone tonight'." He pulled a blanket over Tommy's naked body and handed him another biscuit. "Eat that. I'll be back in a tick."

The knocking at the door resumed just as Alfie left the room. "I'm fucking  _ coming _ !" he shouted, hurrying stiffly down the stairs. 

* * *

Alfie slammed the front door shut and engaged the five locks and chains that he'd had put onto it. He called up the stairs as he climbed them. "Fuckenell Tommy, sometimes I genuinely don't know how these lads manage to get themselves dressed in the mornings, the way they can't handle the smallest issues without having to run and cry for help. It really makes you wonder about the future of this fucking world, y'know? If kids like these are gonna be the ones in charge someday. Just what is--"

He faltered to a stop on entering the room. He'd left Tommy pink and smiling and getting ready to be pampered and pleasured to his heart's content. What he came back to was very different. 

Tommy was lying on his side with his back to the door, knees curled up, wrists crossed over his face. Despite the blanket pulled up to his chest, he was shivering and his skin was so pale it almost seemed blue. He was silent but his ribs jerked like he was crying. 

Alfie hurried across to him. "Tommy, love, what's wrong? What happened?" Tommy only hid further behind his hands, heaving out a huge breath that was clearly a barely-contained sob. Alfie stroked at his wrist, calloused thumb rubbing softly at the rope bruises. He pulled gently, trying to reveal Tommy's face but Tommy stiffened up, curling into a tight ball. Alfie certainly wasn't going to force him so he shifted his hands to squeeze his shoulder and upper arm instead. 

"Tommy, you have to tell me what's going on so I can help you. Are you hurt?" He rolled his eyes at his own stupid question. "More hurt than expected, I mean." From under his hands, Tommy shook his head. “Okay, good. That’s good.” Alfie crooned encouragingly. “And nothing’s happened between me going and coming back, yeah?” Another headshake. “Alright then, that’s good too.” He began to kick off his boots, which was quite a task without stopping to unlace them. The first toed off fairly quickly, but the other seemed to be clamped around his ankle with fucking steel wire. In the bed Tommy took a huge shuddering breath and tried to exhale slowly. Alfie could  _ see  _ him taking control of himself. Setting up those mental walls. Shutting off.

He poked Tommy in the ribs through the blanket. “Stop that. If you want to cry, you fucking cry, mate. Ain’t no shame in it. Not here with me.” For good measure he reached over and slapped at Tommy’s raw backside. Tommy yelped in shock and lost the tenuous grip he’d got on his emotions. This time the sobs came fast and loud. “ _ Good boy _ ,” Alfie nodded. “Let it out. I wanna hear ya.” He smacked again and Tommy howled out loud, breaking into uncontrolled crying. 

Alfie’s second boot flew across the floor and bounced off the skirting board. He climbed onto the bed and hauled Tommy’s shaking dead weight into a tight embrace, wrapping one leg over Tommy’s hips as well.

“Here now, I gotcha. I gotcha,” he murmured into Tommy’s hair. “It’s just me, Tommy. I’m safe. I love you. It’s just me. It’s just your Alfie.” He rocked back and forth; Tommy an infant in his arms. Alfie kept whispering to him. “You’re safe, love. You’re here with me. I’ve got you.” 

After an aeon of crying,Tommy sniffed, clutched at Alfie’s forearm with wet hands and blurbled something unintelligible. “What’s that, love?” Alfie eased up on the hug a little so that he could unfold enough to be heard.

“M’srry,” Tommy blurted out between sharp little inhalations. He burst into a fresh wave of tears, his whole body shaking with the force of them. “I’m fine,  _ I’m fine _ . I don’t know why this is happening.” There was a slight edge of panic in his voice.

Alfie squeezed him tighter. “You just got the shakes, sweetheart. Like when a man’s been in a fight. He’s swinging and punching and doing just fine in the moment - but then when he gets back home… You’ve had that, right? I bet you did before the war, anyway.” Tommy nodded, hiccupping. “There you go, see? Same thing.” Tommy mumbled again. “Say again, mate?” Alfie shifted Tommy’s arm from on top of his face.

“There wasn’t a fight.” Tears rolled freely down Tommy’s face, though his breathing wasn’t quite as unstable now. He felt like he'd just escaped a bomb blast. That same shock and terror over somehow being perfectly unharmed. And now a deeper fear crawled through his guts. He was being pathetic. Childish.  _ Weak _ . All those years - decades, even - of building and maintaining a persona that is never unruffled, no matter how much shit hits the fan. And in one afternoon he'd shattered it to pieces. He felt like he could  _ hear _ the scant amount of respect that Alfie may have for him trickling away with every second that ticked past. 

He'd always thought that fucking Alfie would change everything. And it had, in a way, but not in any of the ways he'd expected. And in the end, it was his own tightly hidden fragility that was going to bring it all crumbling down. Cold fear lined the edges of his mind.

“Well your body don’t know you haven't been fighting, does it, silly sod?” Alfie kissed the top of his head. “Your body reckons it’s just been through an actual fuckton of shock and pain, don’t it? Cos it fucking  _ has _ . It don’t matter about the actual particulars of the specific circumstances around  _ why _ that pain was occurring; the pain was real and your body’s gotta cope with it.” He folded a pillow under his head more comfortably and rubbed his cheek against Tommy’s close-cropped temple. 

“I feel fine, though,” Tommy protested. “I  _ asked _ for it. This is ridiculous; I’m crying for  _ no reason _ . I’m so sorry.” The apology blurted out, unbidden.  _ Pathetic. _ He wanted to burn the word out of the air. He hid behind his hands again, blushing from cheekbones to collarbones.

“Sometimes people just need to cry, Tom. There don't have to be a reason.” Alfie lifted Tommy’s hand away and interlocked their fingers. “But some people,” he singled out Tommy’s index finger and tapped him on the nose with it, “some people don’t cry easy. They can keep motoring on no matter what shit life throws at ‘em until it seems like they don’t have any emotions at all. But they’re there, building up in their heads, until they’re like a fucking grenade, eh? Just takes that pin to drop and they’ll explode.”

Alfie drew a pattern in the air with Tommy’s finger. “Like your brother, Arfur, int’it? Got all those  _ feelings _ locked up in there. Until it’s time to stab a cunt - and then it all comes out as pure unadulterated violent  _ rage _ .”

Tommy made a noncommittal noise. The last thing he wanted to talk about now was Arthur.

“But that’s what makes him so fucking  _ useful _ to you, Tommy, isn’t it? That’s exactly why he is your perfect goddamn soldier. You charge him up, point him at a target, and let him blow the enemy to pieces for ya. That’s a powerful weapon that is, in the right hands.” Alfie used Tommy’s hand to brush his hair away from his eyes. “But then there’s no fucking stopping him, is there? Until he’s burned through all the anger inside. And he don’t have your intellect, Tommy. He don’t have your  _ control _ . So sometimes he can be a loose cannon. And then you’ve just gotta hope that the poor bastard he’s aimed at deserved it.”

Tommy swallowed thickly. He didn’t want to think about the men Arthur had killed in anger. The funerals he’d respectfully gone to. The discreet envelopes of cash he’d handed to grieving mothers and widows. The monthly payments that still left their business accounts; ten shillings here, a pound there, going out to help struggling families with their loss.

“Rage is more useful than fucking crying,” he mumbled petulantly, swiping at his face with his free hand. The tears were still coming, even though the sobs had stopped. 

“Nah, mate.” Alfie bent and straightened each of Tommy’s fingers in turn, from thumb to little and back again. “Rage isn’t a solution, it’s just a fucking high-stakes loan. You get the feelings out now, but they’ll be back with interest later. So more rage. So more feelings. And round and round we go on our little merry-go-round of chaos and destruction, fucking up everyone who dares to come close.” He spiralled Tommy’s thumb into a crash landing on the blanket. 

“Crying though, love,” he wiped away a tear with his thumb, “crying is a safety valve, yeah? Gets all the  _ feelings _ out. Crying don’t hurt no one. Crying has no consequences. Not when you let it happen somewhere safe and private."

Tommy was quiet. He wanted to believe that Alfie meant what he was saying and really was trying to help him. But the tiny thoughts that he tried to keep shoved to the very back of his mind kept whispering to him that he was being humoured or made the butt of a joke, or worse:  _ pitied. _ He took a deep breath and once again, pushed those thoughts away.  _ Alfie cared about him. Alfie wasn't going to betray him. He was safe _ . He repeated those words to himself like a mantra. 

Lying there, staring at the wall and just holding onto Alfie's arm, his breathing slowly became more normal. After the better part of quarter of an an hour, he carefully turned over to face Alfie, one finely boned hand resting on Alfie's hip. Alfie put his hand on top but otherwise didn't say or do anything. They lay in bed in silence together.

* * *

Eventually, Tommy cleared his throat. “Do…" He licked his lips. "Do you ever get like this?” His blue eyes stayed lowered, carefully examining Alfie's waistcoat buttons. 

Alfie sucked in a deep breath. “Well now, I am - you may have noticed - a rather  _ emotional _ person. My heart is worn boldly on my sleeve, so to speak. If I’m angry, I’ll fucking smack a cunt. If I'm happy, I’ll head out, hit the town, go to the pictures. If I’m frustrated, I’ll go and fuck someone. So on the whole, my tension don’t manage to build up as much as yours, I reckon."

Tommy huffed a joyless laugh. “So no, you don’t.” He slid his hand up to Alfie's chest and grabbed onto his shirt, burying his face into the almost-white linen. He drew one knee up, locking his foot over Alfie's calf. Of course he didn't. A fresh wave of self-disgust rolled over him.

“Hold on now; just hold your fucking horses there treacle, I wasn’t finished.” Alfie stroked Tommy's hair back, tilting his head to lay a kiss on his forehead. “I was  _ going _ to say that we all get a bit tense and bottled sometimes. And when I feel the pressure building…" he paused. "I do have someone who I go to, when I need it. Who does for me what I'm doing for you right now." He stared up at the ceiling. "And then I fucking do cry, mate, yeah. Bawl my bleedin’ eyes out like a baby, don't I?"

He detached Tommy's fingers from his shirt and kissed the back of his knuckles. "And yeah, it’s fucking miserable while it’s happening. But you can’t cry forever, can you? Impossible. Sooner or later you’ll run out of misery and sadness and then all that’s  _ left _ is… well," he sighed. "Not happiness, no. But not sadness either. Not rage. Not worry. Just nothing. Just peace.

"Hmn," Tommy mused, tracing Alfie's lips with the tip of his finger. A little peace would be fucking wonderful. He frowned, going back over what he'd just heard. “Wait. Someone…  _ what _ ?” He lifted his head to look at Alfie. He must have been mistaken.

“Hmmn?” Alfie scratched at his cheek, playing innocent.

“ _ You _ go to someone for…  _ this _ ?” Tommy gestured vaguely at himself and the bed and Alfie. He wouldn't have been able to say it, even if he'd known how to describe what he meant.

A shrug. “On occasion. During times of  _ particular _ stress and palaver.” Alfie's voice was mild, unruffled. How could he be so fucking calm after what he just admitted?

Tommy shoved himself up halfway to sitting. “Just to be perfectly clear: there is a person out there somewhere that  _ you _ go to - to get beaten with a belt until you cry?” He tried to picture Alfie on his knees, bare arse bright red from belt marks. He could picture a man in that position, but whenever he tried to give that man Alfie's face, the image blurred and twisted.

Alfie's brow furrowed. “What? Oh. Nah, sorry mate; didn’t mean to mislead you.” He shuffled to lie on his side, and ran a reverent finger down the skin of Tommy's chest. Ah.  _ Of course _ . There it was. Of course no one beat up Alfie Solomons and lived to do it again another day. Tommy relaxed slightly, normality restored. Alfie blithely carried on. “No, I generally prefer a caning, if you must know. Bit sharper, innit? Then I’ll still be feeling it a week later. Reminds me to remember who I am.”

Tommy gaped at him, open mouthed in sheer bewilderment. “You…?” He couldn't seem to process the thought. It couldn't be true. It couldn't be true. 

Alfie glanced up at him and recoiled in overacted pantomime surprise. “Oi, what’s happened to your face, then? You catching flies?" Tommy snapped his mouth shut but was still a picture of confusion. Alfie poked his chin. "You’d best be careful; my mum always used to say that if the wind changes you’ll get stuck like that, you know.”

Tommy batted his hand away distractedly and let himself sink back down to the mattress. “I...  _ cannot _ imagine you being caned," he shook his head in disbelief. He was more stunned from this revelation than he had been the day Alfie had invited him to fuck.

“Yeah? You couldn’t imagine me getting fucked either, but you did that the first time we got together, din’tcha?" Alfie pulled him closer and started to lay kisses down his jaw and neck. He paused, grinning. " _ And _ , my sweet little boiled egg, you bloody  _ liked _ it. My arse had you done in four minutes flat.”

Tommy flushed scarlet. The memory was still humiliating, no matter how many times Alfie insisted he'd taken it as a good sign of how much Tommy really had wanted that fuck. "I made it up to you," he grumbled with a bit of a pout, while Alfie sucked a bruise onto his collarbone. 

"Mmmn, yes you did." Alfie agreed enthusiastically. He wriggled himself down the bed a little so that he could kiss further down Tommy's chest. "And you were so very,  _ very _ pretty doing it, too." Tommy's heart flared at the compliment. He knew it was shallow and meaningless, but of all the times his looks had been praised, he'd never actually believed any of it like he did when Alfie said those things. Alfie made him feel absolutely adored.

He remembered what a fucking state he must be in right now. Sweaty and tired and sore and covered in mucus and spit and flakes of dried tears. "And now I look like some hysterical scullery maid," Tommy sighed. He rubbed at his swollen eyes with the heels of his hands. 

With a warning growl, Alfie captured Tommy's hands and pulled them firmly down. "No, no. None of that, now. You are beautiful." He dipped back down to graze his teeth over a nipple. "And you fucking know it," he added in a muffled voice.

Tommy smiled down at him but sighed. "Leave off. I've just spent an hour crying my eyes out, Alfie.” They'd promised each other honesty. To his mind. that extended to pillow talk too.

"Mmmmn…" Alfie let out a pleased rumble. It sounded very much like the noise he made when Tommy did something that he  _ really _ fucking liked, so that he was so distracted by thoughts of fucking him that he forgot how words worked and was just left with that filthily appreciative hum. 

Tommy ran his fingers through Alfie's hair; then grabbed a handful and pulled his head up for a kiss on the lips. He pressed his forehead to Alfie's. "No. You don’t have to pretend you like it. Please don't patronise me." 

Alfie only shrugged, unfazed. "I do like it, actually. You're beautiful. It's just a pure fact, sweetheart." He kissed Tommy again, deeper, running his hands over his chest to toy with that same nipple with his fingers instead of his teeth.

A frustrated huff against Alfie's mouth. Tommy drew back. "No, I mean you're acting like it turns you on." He rubbed at his nose with a frown. He was very close to getting petulant. 

Another shrug. "It does." Alfie sucked at his jaw again - one of his favourite spots. One of Tommy's favourites too, which Alfie probably knew perfectly well and was why he liked to bite there so often.

Tommy rolled his eyes. "Oh fuck off." He brushed his fingers through Alfie's hair again, smoothing it all back from his face. Inside, he felt hollow. He wanted closeness and intimacy. Not placation and well-meaning lies

Alfie lifted his head and glared up at him. "Tommy, I have been rock hard over you for the last two hours. Don't you fucking try to tell me what I am or am not turned on by." 

"Oh, so my crying and snot and tears get you hard, do they?" Tommy scoffed, flapping his hand dismissively. His voice dripped with sarcasm. His chest felt tight. He didn't want Alfie to be like this. Alfie’s absolute brutal honesty - when not screwing someone over in a business deal - was the thing that had had Tommy obsessing about him in the first place. 

Alfie gazed at him, expression completely steady. "They do, actually. Yeah." He made a very intimate adjustment to the lay of his trousers. "They do."

Tommy blinked.  _ No. _ He knew that there were people out there who got off on some odd stuff. He might well be one of them, the things he let Alfie do to him. The things he  _ wanted _ Alfie to do to him. But… crying? That could not be a real thing that anyone could really find sexy. Not even Alfie, who had enlightened him about several kinks and turn ons he would never have otherwise even contemplated. But  _ crying _ ? Bullshit.

He reached down to prove Alfie a liar. But his fingers met a familiar generous solidity. That was not a gun in his pocket. He stared wide eyed at Alfie who was just watching him with a small smile, perfectly calm. Not at all bothered about being revealed to be into some… frankly  _ weird _ fucking shit. Tommy's thoughts shut down. He licked his lips slowly. "You are... insane." His voice was hoarse; his throat dry. 

Alfie chuckled and accepted the diagnosis with an acknowledging tilt of the head. “I may well be.” He kissed Tommy's cheek and murmured filthily into his ear. "But you're the one fucking me, love."

He had a good point. Speechless for once, Tommy let Alfie lay him back and kiss him properly.

* * *

The kissing escalated like they both knew it would. Alfie had one of his knees between Tommy’s thighs, letting him grind himself slowly against his - still fully clothed - hip. Alfie amused himself by teasing Tommy with his tongue and sucking on anything he could reach, his ear, his throat, his nipples, his lower lip. Tommy knew he was consciously reminding himself to keep his hands gentle over the weals from the belt - though his usual urge to grab and squeeze was even stronger now. Tommy’s body flexed in slow undulations underneath him, chasing contact where he wanted it. His eyes were closed and he felt like he was floating, just letting this unhurried intimacy unravel. None of his usual whirring mental machinations seemed to matter. He felt light. Unburdened. His mind was as still as a mill pond. 

Maybe this was what Alfie meant when he said crying brought peace.

They drifted from the still waters into a more deliberate direction of flow, trickling steadily towards the fuck that Tommy had been craving since he’d turned up at Alfie’s house with his usual confident swagger at midday - completely unaware that Alfie had found out that he hadn’t stopped playing the lethal game the Duchess had taught him. The way he proved to himself, in his darkest moments when everything seemed hopeless, that Fate would keep him alive. To prove that it wasn’t his time to die yet. To show the universe that he still wasn’t afraid of death, so there’d be no point in threatening it. 

Instead of tumbling him into bed, Alfie had very calmly explained exactly how he was going to express his displeasure at Tommy’s latest roll of the dice. And instead of telling him it was none of his fucking business and walking out, Tommy - knowing full well what was going to happen to him - had obediently followed him up to the attic room and stripped for it. 

He still didn’t know why he let Alfie do these things to him. 

Well. That wasn’t strictly true. He went along with Alfie’s bizarre ideas because the sex was - quite frankly - utterly outstanding. And because he had apparently become a desperate slut for it. He sometimes wondered if he’d been bewitched by a curse or a spell. Did Jews do spells like Gypsies did? He had no idea. 

Alfie wormed down the bed a little and outright took Tommy in hand - and Tommy was getting better about not being ashamed by his automatic reaction to that. How his thighs spread apart and a little low moan hummed in his throat and his hip jerked forward for more. His cock was leaking already, a vivid demonstration of how much he wanted it, so he could hardly play coy. Alfie’s fingers curled lower, soft squeezes around his balls and a perfectly placed finger, pressing up right behind them, pulsing a firm pressure that melted pleasure through him. 

Tommy squirmed on his back - and grimaced as the sheets rubbed painfully at his raw skin. It wasn’t enough to stop him though. Uncomfortable but not unbearable. Alfie nipped sharply at his belly on his way down to take Tommy’s cock into his mouth and swallow it down to his throat. Tommy found himself panting small high gasps. He grit his teeth and choked the noises back. Alfie resurfaced for air, looking up at him with dark eyes, licking the taste of Tommy off his lips. Tommy used the reprieve to grope blindly in the drawer of the bedside table.

He tossed the jar of thick, almost solid oil to Alfie - who glanced blankly at it. “You want something, sweetheart?” He toyed idly with Tommy’s cock, giving entirely too little pressure for anything to feel good, yet just enough so that the potential couldn’t be ignored. 

Tommy’s knuckles went white around handfuls of the sheets. “You know what I want,” he muttered, looking aside. 

“Do I?” Alfie asked, sounding surprised. “Are you sure? You don’t wanna make your request any clearer at all? Tell me what it is you have in mind?” He was always fucking doing this. He loved making Tommy spell out exactly what he wanted - to put his secret dirty desires into actual spoken words. Alfie's voice dropped to a threat. “Don’t make me guess…”

Tommy opened his mouth, but couldn’t make himself do it. ‘I want you to fuck me’ was on the tip of his tongue but to actually  _ say _ it… he still found it difficult to admit out loud. Sometimes it was easy. Sometimes he couldn’t stop himself even if he wanted to. Sometimes his throat just seemed to close up entirely. He looked pleadingly at Alfie. Silent.

“If you don’t tell me what you want, I’ll have to do what  _ I think _ you want,” Alfie mused - and flicked the tip of his tongue over the slit at the head of Tommy’s cock. Tommy gasped and nodded urgently. Alfie did it again. “Something like this, eh?” Another frantic nod. Alfie cocked his head in puzzlement. “Cat got your tongue again, Tommy?” His fingers rubbed at Tommy’s balls. 

A sharp grip, a little twist. Tommy yelped as Alfie squeezed one of his testicles and let go. The pain was over almost before it began, but it still made him feel sick and shaky. Alfie smirked up at him. “Was that what you wanted Tommy? Bit of a tug?” Tommy kicked at him, annoyed with himself for giving Alfie a reason for a shock like that. Alfie just laughed. “I gave you a chance, mate.” Tommy flinched as he reached for his cock again, but this touch was gentle, teasing. “Wanna have another try?” Alfie asked with his head tilted. “Tell me what you want, love.”

Tommy grit his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to blurt it all out. “I want you to fuck me. I want your fingers in me, and then your cock. I want you to make me come while you’re fucking me. I want--” Alfie cut him off with a tolerant chuckle.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa there, treacle. Slow the fuck down.” He picked up the jar from the folds of the blankets. “One thing at a time, mate, yeah?” He smiled sweetly down at Tommy’s flushed face and scooped out some grease from the jar. “Now, I think I heard ‘fingers’ pretty high on that list, so I’m gonna start there. Is that alright with you?”

Tommy nodded but Alfe held up a warning finger. “...yes,” he managed to croak out. 

Alfie matter-of-factly lifted one of Tommy’s legs and let his foot rest on his shoulder. He reached under Tommy’s balls and slid oil-slick fingers up between his arsecheeks. Tommy closed his eyes again, shutting out everything but how Alfie was touching him. Sometimes he’d tease him for hours, building up painstakingly slowly, until Tommy was a desperate, twitching mess under his hands, already having to concentrate on not coming before Alfie’s even got his cock in him. 

Today he moved more briskly; Alfie knew what he could handle. A finger probed carefully and then eased in, was withdrawn and pushed in again with a second to keep it company, all in the space of moments. Tommy flexed around them, an unconscious smile melting over his face. “How’sat then?” Alfie asked, having a good feel about. 

“Yeah,” Tommy nodded, eyes still closed. “Good.” He rolled his hips, getting Alfie’s fingers where he wanted them. He heard Alfie’s smirk but he obliged, curving his fingertips to find Tommy’s prostate. With his other hand, he tugged Tommy’s foot from his shoulder and tucked the leg around his hip instead. “Ahhh..” Tommy sighed in satisfaction, mouth falling open as Alfie did his magic. A sudden touch at the tip of his cock made him jump and he looked down just in time to watch Alfie take it all the way into his mouth again. His fingers twitched firmly inside.“Oh fuuuuck…” Tommy breathed, paralysed by the combination of the visual along with the paired physical sensations. 

Alfie let himself gag twice around Tommy’s cock and then pulled up open-mouthed so his saliva cascaded down it. He stuck his tongue out and licked lazily all the way up, then sat back and wiped daintily at his lips, pushing a stray drop into his mouth. 

Tommy reached for him and Alfie knelt over him - one hand still pressed into his arse - and kissed him. Timmy slid a hand around his neck. “Please fuck me. Please fuck me.” He hadn’t meant to beg, but the words tumbled out. 

"Well now…” Alfie teased. “Do you want me to?" He flexed his fingers again. 

Tommy nodded, rocking his hips shamelessly onto Alfie’s hand. "Always." He spread his legs further, getting ready.

Alfie sighed melodramatically, as if he was being asked a huge favour. "Well... I suppose I might… If it’ll make you happy, my love.” He smirked down at him - loving every second of this.

Tommy kicked him again. "Shut up and fuck me." 

Alfie touched his fingers to his temple in a salute. “Right you are, Sergeant Major. I’ll get right onto that.” He kissed Tommy again and then settled back on his heels between Tommy’s thighs. His fingers pulled out and Tommy wriggled, needing some sensation. Alfie scooped some more oil from the jar and recapped it with slippery hands. He stroked at himself for a moment, just raking his eyes over the sight spread out for him. Tommy blushed, feelings of self-consciousness creeping over him again. 

Alfie took hold of him by the backs of his knees and hauled his hips up onto his lap. He slid two fingers back into Tommy, then wriggled in a third. Tommy wrapped his legs around his waist, wincing a bit from the friction against his sore skin. Alfie paused. "You alright there?"

Tommy nodded, biting his lip. "Yeah. Just… tender. From the belt." He tried to make himself relax, but the way their skin stuck together made every movement in this position sharply uncomfortable. Alfie stroked at his belly and hip bone, giving him time to get himself settled. But despite shifting about, Tommy still found himself grimacing a bit. He didn’t mind the pain itself, but it was a distraction and he wanted to enjoy the fuck he’d earned. 

"You wanna go on top?" Alfie offered. Tommy liked riding him, though it had taken a while for him to get the confidence to move enough to get the most out of it. 

Tommy shook his head. "No. Let me up, I'll go on my knees." It wasn’t something he did often. He wasn’t comfortable with how submissive and degrading it felt to present himself like that, but it would probably be the most sensible option right now.

"Oh I am fucking  _ honoured _ tonight, ain't I?" Alfie chuckled. “Must be my bloody birthday for you to be kneeling.”

"Shut up," he growled shortly. He rolled over with a grunt, lifting his leg right over Alfie as he went in a completely unexpected display of flexibility. He crawled back to kneel in front of Alfie, knees spread, and grabbed a pillow to stuff under his chest. He rested his head on his crossed arms. 

Alfie whistled. "Fucking hell, your arse is gorgeous." He ran his fingertips over the hot red stripes across Tommy’s backside and thighs. “I would frame this and put it on my fucking wall, mate. Your arse is an artwork.”

Tommy snorted. "So put your cock in it." He wiggled invitingly. And immediately felt ridiculous for doing so. 

Alfie didn’t seem to mind. "Give me a fucking minute to enjoy the view, eh? I wouldn’t go to the Louvre to see the Mona Lisa and immediately start to fuck it, would I?"

Looking over his shoulder, Tommy gave him a wary glance. "I... actually don’t know, Alfie. Would you?” Since being shot and resurrected, Alfie had revealed so many strange things about his private life that Tommy never knew what to expect next. 

Alfie sucked in through his teeth, considering. “Probably not the Mona Lisa, but I might have a go on some of those Renaissance St Sebastians.” He was still gazing happily at Tommy’s rear end, smoothing his fingers over him. 

Tommy rested his head back on his arms. “I genuinely can’t decide if you’re joking or n-- oh!” A freezing cold touch on his thigh made him jump. “What are you--?” He twisted to get a look.

Blithely, Alfie held up the pot of soothing salve he’d intended to put on Tommy’s marks before they’d been so rudely interrupted earlier. “Just killing two birds with one stone, treacle. Won’t be a mo’.” He applied it over the broken skin with remarkably little fuss or distraction and slid two fingers back into Tommy as soon as he was done. Tommy arched his back, and mumbled into his folded arms. Alfie slapped his cock against his backside and shuffled into place. 

“Push back for me, petal?” he murmured, drawing Tommy’s hips closer. He let Tommy ease himself back onto his cock at his own pace, giving him a barely audible “yeah, good  _ boy _ . Fuck...” as encouragement. Tommy breathed through his nose, muscles in his back flexing as he got used to the stretch and fullness. He let himself sink under a wave of closeness and belonging. This was  _ right _ . He was  _ meant _ to be here. In bed with Alfie balls-deep in his back passage, ready to fuck him senseless. This was what he needed. 

He knew Alfie was waiting for him to signal he was ready but he just wanted to stretch this moment out. Enjoy this fragment of time. Just being here, recently broken down and put back together, cared about, cared for, and spread open on a particularly impressive cock about to be fucked and wanted and loved - like he was a real person; a normal human living a normal life and having normal relationships with people instead of fighting and killing and scheming against them. 

A polite ‘ahem’ from Alfie brought him back into the room and he nodded his head, arching his back a bit more. Alfie swore softly under his breath before holding him by the hips and slowly withdrawing. His first thrust was firm but measured and Tommy groaned, steeling himself for Alfie to start fucking him properly. 

He'd never really understood why men let themselves be fucked by other men. He could understand doing the fucking. One warm hole was much like another. And men couldn't get pregnant. And were less likely to moon around after you, causing problems with your wife. Fucking other men made sense. But  _ being  _ fucked? He'd always assumed it was either the only way for men made that way to be close to men, or that there was some kind of humiliation of feminisation fetish that they got off on.

So when Alfie had fucked him the first time, and he'd come with his cock entirely untouched, just from the fuck itself - it had been a  _ revelation _ . Being fucked felt  _ good _ . Just as good as the other way round, and sometimes… even better. And although he had no one else to compare with, he knew Alfie was fucking good at it. 

He was well into a spectacular performance now, Using Tommy's hips to pull him onto his cock and pounding into him in a steady rhythm. Tommy reached under himself to palm at his cock, needing just a bit more. 

Alfie dragged his nails up Tommy’s spine and grasped a firm handful of his hair; hauling him upright with a little help from his other arm wrapped around his waist. Tommy keened out loud, the movement changing all the angles of Alfie’s cock in his body. He threw his head back onto Alfie’s shoulder, one hand reaching up and back to hold the back of Alfie’s head. 

There was a little moment of rearrangement. Alfie sat on his heels, kneeling on the mattress with Tommy laid out astride his thighs, leaning back against Alfie’s chest for support. Alfie adjusted his grip to hold Tommy across the collarbones, the meat of his forearm just pressing lightly up against his throat. Tommy clutched at his hand, though he didn’t know whether he did it to prevent Alfie from choking him or to be able to encourage it. Alfie’s free hand toyed across Tommy’s chest for a while, flicking at his nipples, before steadily moving down until he grasped at Tommy’s cock. 

He thrust his hips and the movement pushed Tommy’s cock up through the loose circle of Alfie’s fingers. Tommy gasped from deep in his chest. This new angle aimed Alfie’s cock at some incredibly good places. Alfie nipped at his earlobe “Yeah?” he asked, as if it wasn’t blatantly obvious. 

He fucked up into Tommy again, his hand around Tommy's cock still torturously loose. Tommy moaned. "Yeah. Yeah. Fuck me. Fu-uck…" He stuttered as Alfie obliged him. 

"Fucking hell, you are so fucking beautiful," Alfie breathed into his ear, his hand drawing up to twist around the head of Tommy's cock. 

Tommy twisted his neck to kiss him clumsily somewhere near his mouth. "Fuck me."

Alfie did. 

Six months ago, Tommy would have been horrified if he'd been told that he'd be eagerly bouncing on a cock, moaning and calling out completely shamelessly, getting stroked off to an incredible orgasm. Now, all he wanted was to come and he didn't care how desperate he looked or sounded. 

Alfie played his body like an expert musician, drawing him steadily up to a crescendo. A hand around his cock, steady fucking up into him, that arm across the base of his neck… Tommy gave himself over entirely and when he came - high pitched gasps spilling from high in his throat - he spattered messily over Alfie's fingers and thighs. 

"Fuck yes… Good boy," Alfie murmured, craning his neck to see over Tommy's shoulder. He eased Tommy through it, milking the come out of his cock and pressing kisses onto his neck and shoulder. When Tommy was done, Alfie lifted his hand to his mouth and licked a finger clean. Tommy groaned at that, watching him through half-lidded eyes. Alfie smirked and held his hand to Tommy's lips, half jokingly. When Tommy sucked his come-laden thumb into his mouth, he felt Alfie's reaction in the twitch of his cock in his arse. 

They kissed and then Alfie pulled away and eased Tommy down to the bed where he flopped loosely onto his belly. Alfie kissed a line down his back. "Fucking hell, sweetheart. You were worth dying for." Tommy panted into the pillow under his chest, still trembling a little . “Tom, love, can I...?” Alfie was climbing on top of him, sitting on his thighs. Tommy nodded, grunting an affirmative. Alfie pressed his cock down between his cheeks and fumbled to get into him again. 

This fucking was beyond any pretence at finesse. Alfie helped himself to Tommy’s body unapologetically, rutting hard and fast and trapping Tommy in place underneath him with a hand gripping the back of his elbow. He leaned his weight onto his forearm which was pressing across Tommy’s shoulderblades, pinning him helplessly into the mattress. His feet curled over Tommy’s calves, holding him down. Tommy shut his eyes and let himself be used. He felt like a ragdoll; a fucktoy. Alfie just taking what he wanted. 

It was fucking incredible.

The position had Alfie's cock fucking straight into Tommy's prostate. He knew it was purely more luck than judgement, but that didn't mean it didn't have Tommy lying there open mouthed and shaking, too overcome to even moan. His cock was trapped between the bed and his belly, growing hard again and leaking steadily every time Alfie fucked into him. He clung to the pillow under his chest, his knuckles turning white with the grip.

Alfie dropped heavily to lie fully on Tommy's back, grasping at his shoulders. He was getting close now, moving faster, more erratically. His breathing came in grunts and moans in Tommy's ear. Tommy was struggling to get air in with Alfie's weight on his chest. He felt light-headed. Alfie shifted another gear, driving into Tommy with new desperation. His urgency fed into Tommy who found himself suddenly pushed through into an orgasm that was ripped from him without him even knowing it was happening. He shook, his cock pulsing come against his stomach in a slow, seemingly endless stream. He couldn't breathe but he didn't care. His world shrank down to Alfie's cock fucking the come out of his body. There was nothing else. Only Alfie, connected directly to pure pleasure. 

Somewhere far above him, Alfie was coming. A small part of Tommy's brain recognised his hoarse cries of "fuck, fuck, fuck…" and the sharp stuttering thrusts of his hips as he emptied himself up into Tommy. But he was still floating in an empty space of breathlessness and orgasm and couldn't seem to make himself do anything about it. Colour faded from his vision and the edges of the room disappeared, leaving only the brightly printed flowers on the pillowcase. Alfie panted heavily into his ear for a few beats and then dragged himself off and out of Tommy's body, flopping onto the mattress next to him. 

Tommy dragged in a huge breath and saw stars. He lay still and gasped, just dragging breath after breath of air into his lungs. Alfie chuckled and stroked the back of his head. "Fuckenell mate, you are phenomenal." Tommy was only able to dazedly flap his hand in acknowledgement. 

Alfie gave him a little shove. "You alright there, love?" Tommy flapped his hand again. Stars were still dancing at the edges of his vision, whether his eyes were open or not. Alfie poked him again. "Oi, Tommy, talk to me." Another hand flap. 

Alfie rolled him over, all of Tommy's limbs loose and boneless. The cool air met the fluid all over his belly and he twitched a little. His face was plastered with a broad smile. "Tommy?" Alfie pushed one of his eyelids back. Tommy batted at him with an unsteady hand. 

"I'm fine," he managed, hoarsely. "I'm fine, just fucked out." He squeezed Alfie's hand. "Let me float." He couldn't stop smiling. 

He jerked when Alfie tickled the sole of his foot, snatching his leg away with an irritable grumble. "I'm  _ fine _ , Alfie. I'm happy. Leave me be." 

Alfie swiped a finger through the mess on his belly. "Did you fucking come again?" Tommy nodded, his smile growing broader. Alfie let out a little groan. "You jammy fucking bastard." And then, a beat later, "You're sleeping in the puddle, though." He dropped a kiss on Tommy's smiling lips and sat down next to him. 

They lay quietly for a while, Alfie sat up, leaning on the headboard and humming a tune low in his throat. Tommy sprawled out on his back, slowly remembering how to operate all his limbs. 

Eventually Tommy gathered enough coordination to roll onto his side to face Alfie, his lips pursed around an unasked question. "Alfie?"

"Hmmn?" Alfie glanced at him and traced his bicep tattoo with a fingertip.

Tommy let his hand slide over Alfie’s leg, enjoying the texture of his hair. "Why didn’t you fuck me when I was crying?"

That brought Alfie to a full stop. He leaned back to get a better look at him. "Well, I am so sorry to have  _ inconvenienced _ you, Mr Shelby…” he started with heavy sarcasm that made Tommy give him a bit of a shove in retaliation. Alfie grinned at the horseplay but his expression turned serious. He took Tommy’s hand and squeezed it. 

“It wouldn’t have been right, would it? And you weren’t exactly in the mood then, were you? What with the tears and the snot and all that gubbins." He put Tommy’s finger to his lips, let it slowly slide into his mouth. 

Tommy shivered at the way Alfie’s tongue worked against his fingertip. "But you were. In the mood." It was a question disguised as a statement so Alfie hummed a deliberately bland non-answer. Tommy pulled his hand away and kissed him. He drew back until their lips were barely touching. “You could have.” His voice was softer than a whisper. “I would have let you.”

Alfie closed his eyes for a few beats and pressed the briefest chaste kiss to Tommy’s lips. “I know, love.” He tapped his fingers to Tommy’s nose. “And  _ that _ is exactly why I did not.” His fingers trailed down to Tommy’s mouth and rested gently on his closed lips.

Tommy did not take the hint. He sat up and clambered into Alfie’s lap, sitting astride his thighs. "I’m just confused. You know I would have let you fuck me. And you said you wanted to fuck me. But you still didn’t.” His lips twitched anxiously. 

Tommy Shelby did not usually exhibit anxiety. 

Then again, Tommy Shelby didn't usually willingly take a beating, burst into tears or roll around in bed kissing other men and hoping to get fucked. Nineteen thirty was turning out to contain a lot of surprises. 

Alfie held his face in his hands. "When you are  _ that _ broken up, darling, it don’t matter what I want. It is entirely irrelevant. All that matters is putting you back together." He slung his arms around Tommy’s waist, pressing his palms gently to the swollen and bruised skin of his backside. Tommy was compliant - which was also a worry. “What’s got you so keyed up on this?”

It took Tommy a long time to respond. When he did, he spoke quietly, looking down at the bedsheets next to his knee. “I have it in my head that now that you’ve seen me as a quivering mess, it’ll change how you feel about me.” He held up his hand to interrupt Alfie’s immediate rebuttal. “And I know you’re going to tell me that’s nonsense, but knowing that you wanted to fuck me but you stopped yourself just makes it harder to convince myself that I’m wrong.”

“Alright…” Alfie heaved a breath and massaged at his temples. "Look. Tommy, I may be a  _ pervert _ , but I am not a  _ cunt _ , yeah?” His fists clenched and opened. “I'm not gonna fuck  _ anyone _ in that state. I told ya; it wouldn’t be right." He reached for Tommy’s wrist and held his hand. "But that’s got nothing to do with how much I  _ want _ you, Tommy. Because  _ wanting _ to do something and actually  _ doing _ it are different things. They are not mutually exclusive ideas. I am not an infant or an animal. I can  _ want _ to do a thing and yet simultaneously choose  _ not _ to do it, if said thing is a morally incorrect thing to do."

“Because Alfie Solomons is a well known bastion of morality and virtue.” Tommy’s voice was deadpan, but he couldn’t hide the eyeroll. 

Alfie sighed heavily. “There are some things, Tommy, that are  _ never _ acceptable. Under any circumstances.” He leaned his head back against the headboard and poked Tommy in the sternum. “Speaking of which... Your little game last night." 

Tommy squeezed his eyes shut. "Oh no, Alfie, not now." He started to climb off Alfie’s lap to hide under the blanket but Alfie grabbed him by the elbow and kept him still.

"Yes now.” He took Tommy’s hand firmly. “It’s not gonna get any easier later. Talk to me. What was going through your stupid pretty little head, eh?"

Tommy was silent. 

How could he even begin to explain what it was like? When you were trapped in a corner, every move heading directly to death or ruin, knowing that this may well be it. The end of extra time. Game over. When you were about to gamble everything on the slimmest thread of a change of survival, you needed some kind of sign that Fate was still on your side. Some reason to trust that if you went into the lion's den, you'd come back out again in one piece. And if it was about to be all over… well, there were far far worse ways to die than a shot in the head. At least it would be quick. 

Alfie sat watching him, waiting for him to respond. Eventually he managed to put some fraction of what he was feeling into words. "I… I had to know if Fate wanted me to die that night. And if I was going to die, I wanted it to be by  _ my _ hand.  _ My _ decision." He sighed. "Alfie, it makes you feel so fucking  _ alive _ . So powerful. You can do  _ anything _ . You just stared death in the face and dared him to do it and he  _ backed down _ . Once you've done that, you can do anything."

Alfie was unmoved. "I knew those cunting Russians would fuck you up." He sat up straighter, holding Tommy in his lap. "Listen to me. You  _ don’t _ challenge God, Tommy. And you don’t fuck about with games of chance, you silly boy. The House always wins in the end. You should know that." 

Tommy shook his head. "It's not…" He grimaced, trying to find a way to explain himself. "When I'm like that… It's the end. I'm trapped. There's no fucking choice. Pulling the trigger is the only option." Alfie opened his mouth to interject but Tommy put his hand over it. "And one bullet has better odds than six. What else can I do?"

Alfie squeezed him. "You call  _ me _ , you silly cunt. You  _ call me _ . If you’re sat there in the dead of night looking at a fucking pistol and considering whether to put it to your head and pull the fucking trigger, You. Fucking. Call. Me." He punctuated the words with sharp pokes to Tommy's chest. "And I will come to you and I will  _ help _ you, Tommy."

"I will give you whatever you need to make you feel whole again. If you want to cry I will hold you. If you want to come I will fuck you. If you want to yell blue murder I will beat you, or if you fucking want to skip down the bleedin’ promenade hand in hand eating ice cream, I will be there." He pulled Tommy's head closer until they were nose to nose, looking into each other's eyes.

"And after, Tom, only  _ after _ you have sobbed and spunked and screamed and skipped. If after all that, you still want to put that bullet in your head, I will do that too. Because I’m the only bastard in this world who is entitled to put a bullet in your head now. You hear me?" He let Tommy go and turned his face aside. "I reckon you owe me that, don't you?" 

Tommy sat silently in his lap, his jaw muscle flexing while he thought. 

Alfie shook his head and shifted his legs, setting Tommy off balance. "Forget it. Come on, I need to stretch me back out." He nudged Tommy up out of his lap and shuffled himself stiffly down the bed until he could lie flat. 

Tommy snuggled up next to him and put his hand against Alfie's cheek. "I do owe you that"

Alfie pulled him into a hug. "So can I have your word, Thomas?" 

"My word on what?" Tommy asked warily. 

Alfie looked him in the eyes. "Your word that you won't take yourself out of this crazy fucking world."

"I…" Tommy licked his lips. He thought of all the times over the last year or so when the urge had been so strong, so utterly overwhelming. When the knowledge that he didn't  _ have _ to keep doing this was the only thing that made doing it  _ bearable _ . There was always a way out. He looked down. "I can't promise you that, Alfie."

Alfie's hug turned to stone around him; completely frozen. Tommy squeezed his eyes shut, so ashamed of his weakness. Slowly, Alfie let out a long breath. "Alright. Alright, thank you for not lying to me." He kissed Tommy gently. "But then… How about... not without me by your side." He twined his fingers with Tommy's. "If you go, we go together. Agreed?" 

Tommy blinked. He'd never thought that… The magnitude of what Alfie was offering felt like it was going to burst his chest. He didn't have to be alone any more. He didn't have to fight alone. He didn't have to die alone. He stared back into Alfie's earnest eyes. 

"Agreed." 

**Author's Note:**

> With huge thanks to mastcells, mintjam and renai for all their encouragement to write and post this. 
> 
> Come see me on tumblr at still-the-seventh
> 
> Any scenes or ideas for these two, let me know - I'm always after new inspiration. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
